


Good Ideas

by fabrega



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Bottom Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: Not for the first time, Gabe is struck by how much he loves Jesse McCree.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/gifts).



> For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic), who is the best.

They're on day three of these UN budget negotiations, and Gabe is about ready to start cracking skulls. He and Jack have been here for three days--three days!--sitting across the table from a line of interchangeable faceless, soulless bureaucrats who want to cut their funding like they didn't save the whole goddamn world that one time. Gabe has to wear his dress uniform and pretend that he's _just_ Strike Commander Morrison's second in command, like he's not running his own secret division, like the money Strike Commander Morrison can't account for in last year's budget hasn't been spent by him and his people, good people, shoveling the shit that Strike Commander Morrison's too good to touch, like the money Jack's making cavalier jokes about with these fucking pencil pushers isn't going to be the difference next year between keeping his people safe and a lot of good people getting hurt. None of them have been in the field--not even Jack knows what the hairier Blackwatch missions end up looking like--and that any one of them has the _audacity_ to say that they don't deserve every _cent_ they've asked for feels like a goddamned war crime.

Gabe takes a deep breath, lets it out again, defers to Strike Commander Morrison about what they'd "managed" to spend $500k on in Estonia. (Jack doesn't know. Gabe does: his strike team had needed to swoop in and pull a couple of Jack's people out of the fire and then do the cleanup afterwards. It had been messy, but everyone had made it home alive.) He grits his teeth as Jack airily waves his hands and _lies_.

They break for lunch. Gabe takes a packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket and stomps off to the deserted balcony he'd found on the first day to smoke, alone, in peace.

Jack follows him.

Gabe frowns, stands upwind as he lights his cigarette, doesn't say a goddamn word. (He _does_ offer the pack of cigarettes to Jack, on muscle memory. Jack looks at the cigarettes and up at him and shakes his head.)

"I'm sorry," Jack says, looking out off the balcony instead of at Gabe.

"No you're not," Gabe growls.

Jack gives him an indecipherable look, then sighs heavily. "No, I'm not."

.

They're there for two more days.

.

He and Morrison part wordlessly in the UN hangar at the end of the last day. Gabe knows Morrison is headed back to the Swiss HQ, mostly satisfied with the outcome of this clusterfuck. Gabe is headed back to the Blackwatch base, where tomorrow he and Jesse and Valdez and a couple other poor bastards they'll rope in are going to have to start prioritizing.

He feels exhausted and strangely sore--like he's been keeping every muscle in his body on tense high alert for the last few days, which isn't far from the truth. He's also so amped up on anger and frustration that he knows he'd never be able to sleep the exhaustion away, even though he ought to at least try to on the flight back. Instead he sits with his head tipped back against the wall of the transport and tries to focus on his own breathing, tries to unclench his jaw and his fists. 

There's not much of a welcoming party when he gets back, which is probably a good thing. Valdez is there, waiting, and he hands off the overstuffed folder of paperwork he'd been given to her. She rolls her eyes at him but knows better than to press him for details, and he heads for his room.

When he gets there, Jesse is waiting for him in the hallway, leaned up against the wall in a way he probably thinks is nonchalant; despite everything, a smile tugs at the edge of Gabe's mouth. Jesse takes one look at him and grins sympathetically. "It went that well, huh?"

Gabe grunts in response. He keys open his room, and in a show of probably unnecessary precaution, Jesse peers both ways down the hallway before heading in behind him. They're an organization of covert operatives; he and Jesse have been seeing each other for two years, and if there's anybody here who doesn't know by now that their commander is involved with Jesse McCree, Gabe's not sure they actually belong in Blackwatch. Still, Gabe appreciates the gesture.

Once they're inside, Gabe presses an almost absent-minded kiss to Jesse's cheek and moves to shed his dress uniform, which has felt more and more stifling every day he's put it on this week. Jesse takes a seat on the bed, and Gabe can feel his eyes on him as he removes and carefully puts away the well-shined shoes, the starched pants, the stiff jacket. He removes his medals from the jacket and places them in their box on the dresser, snaps the lid shut with probably more force than is really necessary.

"You want to talk about it?" Jesse asks.

Gabe shakes his head. "Not really."

"You want me to go?"

Gabe turns back to Jesse, shakes his head again. "No," he says. "I've missed you all week, and I'm not going to let Jack Fucking Morrison and those vultures at the UN take this away from me too." He takes a deep breath, and then another. "I don't know why the hell he wanted me there this year anyway. This is, what, his eighth year running Overwatch? And he's never needed me at that bullshit parade before."

"Probably a bad sign," Jesse says, looking thoughtful.

"Yeah, and I'm not sure of what." Gabe runs a hand over his face. "I'm going to take a shower, see if I can't wash the stench of those assholes off me." He pauses, looking sideways at Jesse. "It would be nice if you were here when I got back out, but I would understand if you weren't. There's a good chance I'm not going to be great company tonight."

"You're always great company, darlin'." Jesse gets up off the bed and kisses Gabe once, then again through the smile that the first kiss causes. "Even when you're not. I'm gonna run back to my quarters for a minute, but I should be back when you're done."

"Key card's in the usual spot." Gabe sheds the last of his clothes and heads into the bathroom. He turns the shower on as hot as it'll go and stands silently under the spray for a couple of minutes, letting the heat seep into his muscles as the water pricks at his skin. He goes over the negotiations in his head, tries to see if there's some place he should or shouldn't have spoken up, if he should have pushed harder or acquiesced more or just leapt across the table and punched somebody in the mouth--well, probably not that last one, no matter how satisfying it would have been.

He cleans up and dries off and makes his way back out into the bedroom, his towel wrapped around his waist. As promised, Jesse is sitting on the bed, stripped down to an undershirt and the Blackwatch-print boxers he still insists on wearing. He's got a clever grin and appears to be hiding something behind his back.

"So, I had an idea," Jesse says. He shows Gabe what he's hiding: several lengths of nylon rope. Gabe doesn't quite manage to suppress his shiver; this is something he's mentioned wanting, once or twice, and while Jesse had seemed receptive to the idea, he'd also never pushed for it, so Gabe had just assumed it wasn't ever going to happen.

Not for the first time, Gabe is struck by how much he _loves_ Jesse McCree.

"We don't have to do anything now, or even ever if you don't want--"

"No," Gabe says, probably too quickly, "No, that sounds... good."

Jesse's smile turns warm and self-assured, and he pats the bed next to him. "Well then, get on over here."

Gabe does. "Should I--"

Jesse cuts him off. "I'll tell you what you need to do, don't you worry. Now, lay back and relax."

Gabe lays back, tries to relax, tries to go pliant under Jesse's hands as Jesse lifts his arms up above his head and loops the rope around both his wrists in a deft set of knots. When Jesse tells him to check his work, he pulls experimentally--the rope stays firm, sits a little bit tighter on his wrists but doesn't dig in like he'd expected. "You're good at this," he tells Jesse, raising an eyebrow.

Jesse grins back at him. "You've been away, I had time to practice."

He watches as the end of the rope is snaked down over the top edge of the mattress and Jesse disappears with it for a moment. "I'm tying this to the bed frame," Jesse tells him, peeking up for a moment to meet Gabe's eyes as he cranes his head around to see. "So, you know, try not to super-soldier your bed apart."

"I'll do my best." Gabe pulls again when he's told to, notes how little give the rope has.

"Is that okay?" Jesse asks. Gabe nods. "Alright, now close your eyes."

"What?"

"We're starting out easy," Jesse says, climbing back onto the bed. "You've had a rough week. Now, you want me to stop, you tell me to stop, okay?"

Gabe nods again and closes his eyes. He catalogs the sensations: the sheets against his back, the rope against his wrists, the way he can tell when Jesse's weight shifts on the bed. 

Jesse unwraps the towel that is somehow, miraculously, still around his waist. "Look at you," he breathes, and Gabe feels himself tugging uncomfortably at the rope already. He feels laid bare in a way that he usually doesn't, naked and taken in like this, and it's almost enough to make him call the whole thing off. Then, he feels Jesse's knees touch up against his hip and Jesse's hands--one flesh, one metal--rest easily on his chest, and just like that, he feels safe again. 

Jesse drops kisses against his torso, raspy with stubble, never quite where he expects--against his collarbone, along his neck, down his abdomen towards his waistline, in a line along each of his raised biceps. Gabe's dick twitches against his stomach, already hard.

"You're ridiculous," Gabe tries to say, but the words are caught halfway through in Jesse's mouth as he kisses him, sweet and then a little needy. Gabe raises his head into the kiss, licks up into Jesse's mouth, hears and feels the throaty hum Jesse makes against his lips.

"So are you," Jesse says, pulling away, close enough that Gabe can still feels his breath but far enough that Gabe can't quite reach him. Jesse's breath ghosts down along Gabe's neck, down his chest to flick his tongue against Gabe's nipples each in turn, only for as long as it takes Gabe to moan at the touch. When Gabe tries to twist up into it, he withdraws.

"D'you want me to be in charge of this or not?" Jesse asks. The question sounds like it ought to be angry, but it isn't--instead, Gabe finds himself picking out notes of teasing and concern.

He squeezes his eyes shut harder and nods.

"Okay then." Gabe feels Jesse shift to settle in between his legs; he feels the warmth of Jesse's body above his own. "I won't tease you any more," Jesse says in his ear before trailing a line of kisses down his neck. "You've had a bad enough time. You don't need any more shit, least of all from me." He pauses to drop kisses from Gabe's collarbone to the plane of his hip. "It's nice to see how you want me, though."

"I always want you," Gabe says as Jesse's mouth moves from his hip to his inner thigh.

"Is that so?" Jesse says, the words and his stubble rubbing up against Gabe's soft skin. 

As Jesse's mouth moves, there's suddenly a hand on Gabe's dick--it's stupid, but Gabe had almost forgotten about Jesse's hands, preoccupied as he was with his mouth--and it's only Jesse's other hand on his hip that keeps Gabe flat against the bed. Gabe nods in response to Jesse's question, and then Jesse is trailing his tongue up Gabe's length. Gabe's hips jerk against Jesse's hand again as Jesse takes him into his mouth.

Gabe tugs at the ropes without thinking, wanting to touch Jesse, wanting to _help_ somehow, but the rope stays tight where it is.

Jesse pulls his mouth up off of Gabe's dick, his left elbow now leaning solidly on Gabe's hip, his right picking up the same lazy up-and-down pattern his mouth had been following just moments before. "You doing alright up there, sweetheart?"

"Y-yeah." He moans as Jesse leans back down, his tongue tracing swirls on the tip of Gabe's dick. 

Gabe tilts his head back and tries to concentrate on what he's feeling. He finds himself pulling harder on the rope, the gentle ache in his wrists contrasting with the pleasure of Jesse's mouth, warm and wet and all-encompassing. He hears the bed frame creak a little when he comes, repeating Jesse's name.

He doesn't even realize his eyes are still closed until Jesse is touching his face, saying, "Hey, you still with me?" 

"Always," Gabe mumbles, and Jesse laughs. 

"You can open your eyes now."

When Gabe's eyes adjust, he's looking up at Jesse's face. His expression is a little self-satisfied, but Gabe is too pleased and boneless to mind. He watches as Jesse moves up the bed and loosens the rope around his wrists.

"Was that okay?" Jesse asks as Gabe pulls his hands free and holds them close to his chest, rotating each wrist in turn.

"Yes," Gabe says, after a moment of searching for words and mostly failing. 

"Maybe something you'd want to try again?"

Gabe nods. "Ought to put you in charge of all the things. How 'bout you?"

"That was really something." Jesse grins and snuggles down into the space under Gabe's arm. 

Pressed up against him like this, it's impossible not to notice how hard Jesse's dick still is, the front of his boxers already almost soaked through with precome. Gabe can feel his dick already starting to harden again--the weirdest side effect of the SEP shit, to be sure, but not one he's going to complain about. 

"I know you're probably pretty worn out," Jesse says, a little mischief in his voice as he eyes Gabe's mostly-hard dick, "But if you're up for more, I could be convinced."

"You've had some good ideas so far," Gabe says, pressing his face into Jesse's hair. "Got any more?"

"Well, you could always fuck me? That's an old favorite."

"True, true, that's always a good time." Gabe pretends to think about it. "Or you could fuck me?" He hears the shaky breath Jesse lets out. "I mean, I know it's not your idea, but..."

"No, no, that was going to be the very next thing I suggested," Jesse says, the grin back in his voice. "You want to do that?"

Gabe nods, and he's pretty sure that he could power one of the Blackwatch bases with the brightness of Jesse's smile. He reaches for the bedside drawer where they keep the lube, and Jesse quickly pulls off his shirt and boxers. They kiss breathlessly as Gabe lays back and spreads his legs to let Jesse settle between them. Now that Gabe's hands are free, he can't keep them off of Jesse, running his palms over the expanse of Jesse's bare skin.

Jesse leans against Gabe's chest as he reaches down with one hand to rub the lube on his own dick and then presses a slick finger into Gabe. Gabe gasps against his mouth, and does again when Jesse carefully works in a second finger and curls them gently. His hips arch up into the touch, and he already feels a little like he's going to come apart when Jesse pulls back to slide his dick into Gabe. Jesse goes slow, checking with Gabe after each move he makes until his hips are flush with Gabe's ass. Gabe feels entirely filled up, and he can't help the way his hips roll when Jesse's dick twitches inside of him.

Jesse leans back over Gabe to kiss him. "You feel so good, darlin'."

Gabe can only moan in response as Jesse thrusts almost experimentally, once, then twice.

"You are a goddamn wonder," Jesse says. His voice sounds a little strained, and he starts to babble a little as he picks up a rhythm--Gabe hears his name, and he thinks he hears _love you like this_ and _an ass like a goddamn marble statue_ , but he really can't be sure since he's a little bit preoccupied right now.

He reaches down with a hand and touches himself, strokes in rhythm with Jesse's thrusting, so close, and when Jesse finally bites out _I'm gonna come_ , that's all Gabe needs to tumble over the edge. He comes again, all over his stomach between their bodies, and Jesse pants into Gabe's shoulder as he comes too.

Jesse's arms seem to collapse simultaneously, and he lands on top of Gabe in a sticky heap. They stay there for a moment, satisfied and spent. "Feeling better?" he murmurs, and Gabe nods into the side of his neck. "So you're ready to deal with the budget stuff tomorrow?"

Gabe groans as Jesse rolls off him, and he throws an arm up over his eyes in despair as he tries to get his brain back into gear. When he has words again, he asks, "Really? You want to talk about that _now_?"

"How bad is it, really?"

"They want us to do the same amount of shit with fewer people and less money, and if we don't produce results, it's gonna be my neck on the line and even less money next time." He uncovers his eyes and looks over at Jesse. "We're probably going to have to close the Blackwatch base, consolidate with Overwatch in Switzerland."

Jesse lets out a low whistle. "Well, we'll make it work. We have to." He grins, suddenly and crookedly. "Man, if we're gonna have to give up all this stuff soon, maybe I _should've_ let you super-soldier the bed apart," he says, and Gabe can't help but laugh.


End file.
